Evidence of Guilt (18 page)

'You mean like an airtight alibi and another suspect with motive, means and opportunity?"

"I'm not greedy. I'd settle for one of the above."

"Well, unless there was someone hiding under Wes's bed that night, we aren't going to get an alibi."

"You'd think that a neighbor, a passing car,
someone
would have seen or heard something at the Cornell place." Sam pressed the beer bottle to his temples. "You've talked to all the neighbors?"

"Most. A couple of them I haven't been able to reach. I'll give you the list of names."

"And what about this homeless fellow; you've checked with him?"

"I'm trying."

"Good. It's just wacky enough, it may lead us somewhere." He frowned. "The other-guy defense is always a good one. You're working on that too, right?"

"Right, but we haven't exactly struck gold."

"I've got experts going over the lab reports, crime scene photographs, that sort of thing. I'm hoping we'll be able to show that the prosecution is making some mighty big leaps."

I nodded. It was standard defense strategy. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not.

"I'll follow up on this Bailey fellow. I'd like you to keep looking into Lisa's background. I know she was a real sweetheart and all, but no one's so squeaky clean you can't find something of interest. Look for anything--drug use, gambling, sex habits, relationship with the ex. Hell, maybe she had ties to some devil worship sect that practiced ritual child abuse."

I thought of the women on the courthouse steps who'd said the same thing about Wes. "That's not funny, Sam."

He lowered his beer bottle and regarded me with unexpected seriousness. "I'm not trying to be funny," he said. "I'm trying to save a man's neck. A man who happens to be the son of a very good friend."

I returned his gaze. "I'll look into it," I told him.

But I wouldn't necessarily like it. Trash the victim was not my favorite game.

Tuesday morning I decided to pay a visit to Ed Cole, the attorney handling the probate of Lisa Cornell's estate.

The phone book listed his office as being on the main road through Hadley. After several passes through the center of town I found Cole's office, finally, in a strip mall at the outer edge of the business district. It was conveniently sandwiched between the Nu U Aerobics Studio and a Baskin-Robbins ice cream store. Cole's name was stenciled on the glass door in gold lettering, directly above a sign that read
push.

I pushed, and found myself stepping into a field of green and blue shag. The walls were paneled in dark wood--the kind that's sold by the sheet at Home Depot. A vinyl couch of faded orange stood by the door, and across the room was a heavily cluttered desk. Behind the desk, typing away laboriously with two fingers, sat a man. At least I assumed it was a man. The only part I could ac-

tually see was the top of his head--a ring of curls crowned with a shiny bald spot.

"Let me guess," he said, without raising his head. "You're pregnant."

My breath caught halfway to my lungs. My clothes were feeling snug, but I hadn't considered
that
possibility. I glanced at my midsection, afraid of what I might find there. "I think it's more what I've been eating," I told him.

Finally he looked up, and then blushed right to the circle of smooth flesh at the top of his head.

"Oh, gosh," he stammered, "I thought you were Tina, my secretary. She's been feeling, uh, indisposed these last couple of days. She had a doctor's appointment this morning and I just, uh, assumed that you were her."

He looked stricken. I hastened to reassure him, but sucked my stomach in all the same.

"Are you Ed Cole?" I asked.

"I'm afraid I am." Cole was about my height, with a slight build. Rising, he offered his hand and an apologetic smile. "This is really very embarrassing."

"I just hope you aren't clairvoyant."

He blushed. "No, I'm simply an oaf with a big mouth."

"If it makes you feel any better, you haven't offended a paying client. I'm here about Lisa Cornell." I introduced myself and explained my involvement in the case.

"I heard the courtroom was packed yesterday," he said, gesturing to the chair on my side of the desk. "And that popular sentiment against your client is running high." Despite the words, his tone was matter-of-fact rather than offensive. In any event, he was right.

"Since we're looking at a trial rather than a popularity contest," I said, "sentiment doesn't matter much."

Cole shook his head. "It would matter to me. In fact, I

wouldn't touch a case like that unless I was damn sure I was on the winning side."

"Winning side or right side?" I realized, too late, how self-righteous the words sounded.

Cole shrugged them off and gave me a good-natured smile. "Both, I guess. A stable client base isn't easy to come by; I wouldn't want to see mine disappear overnight."

This was something that had begun to worry me, as well. Part of the reason I'd taken the case was to build a name for myself. But I hadn't counted on the swell of animosity against my client. "Do you think that would happen?" I asked.

"Let's just say, I don't want to be in a position to find out." He smiled again and folded his hands on the desk. "All that's beside the point, though. How can I help you?"

"I understand there's been quite a bit of interest in the Cornell property."

He nodded. "It's a nice piece of real estate, almost ten acres with a stream and a pond. You don't find property like that very often. Usually when you get a good-sized parcel, the bulk of it's a ravine or otherwise unusable. Plus, here you've got access from two sides. There have been people interested in the place for years, but Anne never wanted to sell."

"Anne?"

"Anne Drummond, Lisa's aunt. She left the property to Lisa when she died, with the understanding that Lisa would come live here. Anne had a bee in her bonnet about keeping the place from being developed."

"She had no children of her own?"

He shook his head.

"Is there anyone in particular interested in the property?"

"No one that comes to mind. For a number of years Larry Cox was after Anne to sell to him. He had the place just east of hers. Wanted to combine the properties and turn them into a dude ranch. You know, for tourists."

"Has he inquired about the property since her death?"

"No. He sold his place a couple of years back and moved to Wyoming."

"How about more recent interest?" I asked. "Maybe from a corporation or development company?" That seemed to be the growth wave of the moment.

Cole tugged on an earlobe. "I had an inquiry not long ago from a gentleman named Simmons in the Bay Area. He was rather vague about who he was representing. I had the feeling it was either a corporation or some well-known individual who wanted anonymity."

"Do you have his number?"

"I'm sure I do, somewhere. There have been several other calls since Lisa's death. I've been telling people to call back in a couple of months. We can't sell until we get the estate sorted out."

"Who inherits now that Lisa is dead?"

He frowned. "That's an interesting question. Lisa's mother claims she does. As far as I know, Lisa died without a will, so the woman may be right, except for the question of Lisa's husband. I haven't found a record of the divorce, and when I tried to track the guy down I got one dead end after another."

"You never reached him?"

"The last address I have is in Santa Cruz. I talked to the woman he was living with there. She says they broke up in June and she hasn't seen or heard from him since. Only she didn't put it quite so politely."

"He was apparently here in town not too long ago to see Amy."

Cole nodded. "So I heard."

The phone rang and Cole picked it up. "No, she's not," he said, and then a moment later, "Hold on while I find a pen."

He opened a drawer, closed it, tried another, then began shuffling through the heaps of paper that covered the desk. Finally he stood up and began patting his own pockets.

I reached into my purse and handed him a pen.

He mouthed a silent "thanks," then took a message of considerable length. "That was the veterinarian," Cole said when he hung up. "Tina's veterinarian, that is."

I was happy to see I wasn't the only person who found myself acting as secretary for my secretary. I asked, "Do you know anything about a diary Lisa kept?"

"What kind of diary?"

"I'm not sure what it looked like, but it was a recording of thoughts and feelings associated with her headaches."

Cole shook his head. "I don't recall seeing anything like that among her things at the house. I'm fairly certain it wasn't among the items seized by the police."

"Do you think there's a chance I could get into the house and take a look around?"

His forehead creased. "I don't..."

"It's not just the diary. Lisa may have received a phone call the night she was killed. It was apparently a friend who needed help. Lisa canceled her date with her fiance because of it."

"And you think this call is somehow relevant to her death?"

"That's what I'd like to find out."

Cole seemed to retreat into himself for a moment as he mulled this over. "You really think Lisa Cornell was killed by someone other than your client?"

"If she was, Wes Harding shouldn't have to pay for it."

"The police have been through everything at least once, and her parents took some personal items."

"I'd still like to look around."

Cole thought for a moment longer. "Okay," he said finally. "I have to go out there today anyway. I guess it wouldn't hurt if you came along. But it will have to be quick. I've got a meeting back here later this afternoon."

"I won't slow you down, I promise."

"How about an hour from now? We can ride out together."

"Great."

I checked my watch and then took off for a stroll around Hadley, a town that has been recently discovered by tourists and those who feed off them. The town is quainter than Silver Creek; quainter now than it was a few years ago, in fact. I'm thankful that for all its changes, Silver Creek has been spared that kind of pseudo-Disney renovation.

I passed up a gourmet cookie franchise, a T-shirt outlet and several antique shops, but succumbed to the temptation of a double latte at the town's newest sidewalk cafe.

When I returned to Cole's office a woman with dark, unruly hair was sitting at the desk where he had been earlier. I gave her my name, which she managed to forget by the time she buzzed Cole.

'There's a Ms. . . . uh, a woman here to see you," she told him, then hung up quickly.

"Well," I said to Cole on the way to the car, "was she or wasn't she?"

He went through the blushing routine again. "Almost four months."

"And she didn't know?" I tried not to sound too incredulous.

"Tina has trouble with details."

It sounded as though our secretaries had a lot in com-

"She'd been told she could never have children. She and her husband took up raising dogs instead." Cole opened the car door for me and tossed the fast-food wrappers from the front seat to the back. "They have seven wolfhounds and a very small house."

"Sounds like fun."

Cole sighed. "I hope they manage to find room for the baby." He started the car and pulled onto the highway.

"How well did you know Lisa Cornell?" I asked.

"Not well at all. I knew her aunt, but I never met Lisa until after Anne died. I'd never even heard mention of Lisa until Anne revised her will."

"She revised her will? When was this?"

"About six months before her death." Cole grew silent for a moment. "By the time they discovered the cancer it had spread pretty far. The doctors gave her a year, and she only got half of it. "

"When she learned of the cancer, that's when she revised her will?"

He nodded. "She'd originally left the property to Lisa's mother. My father drew up that will more than twenty years ago." Cole slowed as we passed a bicyclist. "A lot of people do that, you know; forget about updating their will as times change. When you know your time's about up, though, I guess you want to get your affairs in order. At least Anne did."